


i can tie a knot in a cherry stem

by negativecosine



Series: i can keep rhythm with no metronome [5]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Bulges and Nooks, F/F, Fisting, Nook Eating, Oral Sex, background davekat, background terezi/gamzee, light mention of bloodplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 03:56:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1673813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/negativecosine/pseuds/negativecosine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kanaya is never going to get to pail ever, is she?</p>
            </blockquote>





	i can tie a knot in a cherry stem

**Author's Note:**

> Irrumatrix and Jadebloods have given this a Look See, for which I'm Mighty Darn Grateful.

You are tired of boy problems. 

Boy problems include, but are not limited to: "Woe I Don't Know How Any Genitals Of Any Species Work," "Woe I Don't Know What Quadrant Someone Wants Me In But Instead Of Taking Both Hands Off My Shame Globes And Asking Them I Am Going To Wander Around Reeking Of Angst," "Woe I Do Not, Despite Multiple Detailed Explanations, Understand The Basic Premise Of Any Quadrants At All," and your particular favorite, "Woe, I Feel A Bit Bloodlusty So No One Else On This Celestial Body Is Allowed To Get Any Nook Whatsoever." 

The first time you are interrupted, you can nearly forgive the intruder. Karkat has been so _desperately_ pitiful lately, and smelled like tears and sex and regret, and blushed so easily. The matter of his pale quadrant is, as it happens, a topic you and Rose have just been discussing. Extensively. You are very concerned. Your concern is what led you to your impassioned speech on chainsaw-centric clown-dismemberment, which is sort of what leads to Rose shushing you and pulling you down for some very weird, emotional make-outs. Rose kisses slow, and with a great deal of focus, when she is sober, and this particular event is- more sober than sobriety, somehow, both of you emotional and distracted and yet entirely absorbed. It feels hypnotic, moreso when she twists on the couch to loop an arm around your waist, and cups another around your neck. She is very small, your Rose, soft and compact, but when she has you encircled like this, when she tilts down to kiss delicately across your neck, your shoulder, she feels powerful, protective. 

It also tends to leave her neck exposed. 

Rose is not really healthy enough that you can feed from her regularly- as with everyone on this miserable rock, she has problems feeding herself regularly enough, and human metabolisms suffer without a lot of exercise and sunlight, besides. But she has educated you on the marvelous ways of the Human Hickies, which involves sucking on her skin without breaking it, until her blood is visible just under the surface, rich and tantalizing. It is basically the most arousing thing it is possible to do with both of you fully clothed. You pull from her a delicate sound, and her fingers dig in on you. You let your fangs rest lightly on her skin where you've marked her, let her feel the solid angle of them- it makes her moan again, deeper and a little more serious. 

It is for this reason, of course- that your fangs are shamelessly pressed against her skin, that she is pressing her neck up against you- that she yelps a little when Karkat barges in. You both startle, and you nick her skin, and are left hastily licking her blood off your lips as Karkat crams himself in between the two of you. Your lipstick is on her mouth, and she's hastily gathering Karkat in and glancing quickly at you, checking in. You give her a miniscule nod, and she paps him obscenely. 

What follows is basically every filthy cliched conciliatory pornographic film you have ever watched, distilled down into a really shaky little package. When he falls asleep on Rose, you cannot even handle it, and have to abscond. He doesn't wake when you wriggle out from under him, but stirs a little when you bend to press a soft kiss first on Rose, who meets it beautifully, then on Karkat. 

Then you go and take your ablutions, and try not to shamelessly self-pail in the shower. You'll get a chance soon enough, anyways. 

 

You and Rose try again later, because Rose has had a long afternoon of "Oh everyone's business, really" sprawled out all over her lap, and she is affectionate and aggressive after that much close contact. You go to her room with a flimsy pretense, and she barely lets you stay on your feet a minute before she has toppled you, climbed up you to straddle your hips and locked her teeth in on your neck, like she can pierce the vein there. Like she has any intention of actually trying to make you bleed. You allow this for awhile, because she is pleasantly warm atop you, and her teeth are pleasantly blunt, and you are altogether too relaxed to really do anything but stroke up her sides and down her thighs a little. She moves down your neck a little, bites harder as she gets to the less sensitive areas, and you idly imagine what it would be like if you had that human-soft skin, what it would look like if your blood bloomed up under your skin like hers. Like Karkat's. 

You flip her over to distract yourself from your distractions. She makes a little squeakbeast noise, and laughs right into your thoracic skeletal support strut. It tickles, and you dig your claws lightly into her hips to try and still her. She giggles more, and nips at you- not a proper bite, just enough to tickle even more, and her teeth click together when you pull away. She knows better than to whine, since you're really shamelessly obvious about kissing straight down her neck and chest. She's gratifyingly unembarrassed about tugging her shirt and chest harness off without dislodging you, and the sound she makes when you get your mouth latched on one of her lovely spheres is very, very rewarding. 

You dearly love Rose's rumble spheres. They are mammalian and alien in a way that appeals endlessly to you. They're sensitive and responsive, and the effect on Rose when you suck there is absolutely gorgeous. For however calculating and painstaking she can be in every other aspect of your interaction (and you love that! You do! She's thoughtful and she's thorough and it makes her an _excellent_ lover), her mind just completely falls out when you play with her nipples. She squirms, she gasps, she moans and flails around and bites her lip and tosses her head and completely ruins her hair, which goes all staticked like a soft gold halo around her as she shoves her whole body down to try and get closer to your mouth. Her hands wind around your horns, bury in your hair, her legs splay out and grab you, and this is all from almost no effort- you simply suck delicately at one nipple, brush your thumb over the other. It's amazing. 

She doesn't, however, have much stamina for this kind of display. When she tugs your head back by the horns, you see she is blood-flushed and rumpled and breathing heavily. She doesn't say anything, just wrestles you far back enough that she can squirm and kick out of her remaining clothes. She won't release your left horn, so you can't bend down to look, but you know exactly how wet her nook will be from the way she's visibly steeling herself, trying to keep her hips from tilting up on their own. You look her steady in the eye as you slowly, deliberately run one hand down her belly to her thigh. She has exactly one second of patience for this before she's tugging on your horns, both hands again, pulling you down. 

This is not something that had ever occurred to you before encountering Rose, but it's another thing you've rather acquired a taste for. (Ha.) Her nook is soft and wet and tastes nothing at all like her blood (most of the time) and the texture of her flesh against your tongue is uniquely pleasing. She's baldly unafraid of your fangs, and sometimes when you first press your lips to her small vestigial bulge you feel a surge of fear for her- what if she pulls you too hard, or you slip, what if you can't protect her when she's so vulnerable? Her naked courage alarms and stuns you, constantly, that she would so unquestioningly trust you. It's humbling. 

It's also a really easy way to make Rose happy. Unlike any kind of stimulation to her rumble spheres, she is preternaturally adept at talking straight through her climax, and will (and does) calmly walk you through each individual move she'd like you to make regarding her pleasure. Her anatomy here is refreshingly familiar, save the under-grown bulge, though she assures you that it easily matches your own in both sensitivity and importance. She prefers soft rhythmic licks, starting out- and that's exactly how she phrased it, the first time you ever did this, 'I prefer soft, rhythmic licks, starting out,' she'd told you, and you'd had to press your forehead against her thigh and take a deep breath to try and contain yourself. Now, you are able to contain yourself just fine, even as she tells you that you "may insert one finger but mind you do not stop licking and in fact if you could go any faster, or with more pressure, that would be far preferable." You know that it's ridiculous to get as aroused as you do with her clinical over-narration, especially when she uses the strange, clipped highblood vernacular for almost everything, but you love it, because it's Rose. 

Unfortunately, you don't get any more lovely commentary, because Rose stops dead. You look up, and see she's propped up on her elbows and staring at the door behind you. She lets go of your horns, which you take as a suggestion to look. You turn just in time to see her moirail/genetic mammal litter-mate/favorite railed transport device disaster backing out, pale-faced and baldly horrified. 

"Oh," you say, and wipe your mouth delicately on the back of your hand. 

"Indeed," she says, and closes her legs. You briefly consider going and culling her moirail who clearly has no sense of self-preservation anyways because he should _know better_ than to just wander in on this kind of thing, but decide that it's probably not worth Rose's temper. 

"Do you need to go take care of that," you ask her, glancing back at the door. 

"I'm going to go have a shower," she says, which means it's now her turn to go self-pail and you are not invited. You try very hard not to pout. 

"Alright," you say, as lightly as you can. 

"Later," she promises, and sits up, takes your face in both hands to kiss your sticky mouth lightly, then rolls out from under you. You straighten your skirt a little as you watch her dress, and she throws back a radiant smile before she leaves. 

 

The third time you try to pail that evening is almost immediately after Rose returns from her ablutions. You can smell her skin and her scented cleansing liquid gel and the blood under her skin, and her wet nook, all at once. Her cheeks are red and her hair's slicked down flat against her, and it makes her look smaller, emphasizes how vulnerable she is without horns. 

She's also quite naked when she comes back into the block. There's a transportalizer sequence that she can take to get between that block and yours without being seen, mostly, but it seems more likely that she just walked back across the narrow corridor entirely nude. 

"Now?" you ask. While you would be embarrassed to think of anyone else doing this, this is Rose, and you're quite sure that anyone who had the immense good fortune to catch her wandering around the meteor disrobed would simply have the good sense to keep quiet and count their blessings. It's what you usually do, anyways. She makes you wait a moment for an answer, goes to dig through your pile in the corner and come up with something rough and towel-like. You flush very green when she leans over, and she smiles when she catches you staring as she scrubs at where the ends of her hair are dripping onto her bare shoulders. 

Finally, she simply says, "Yes, now should be fine," and drops the towel. You don't dare move as she approaches you, not when she has that intensity about her face, not when she's putting both hands on your shoulders and pushing you back down on the bed and running her hands, blunt-claws first, up your bare legs, under your skirt. She gets it hitched up all the way to your hips by the time she's close enough to kiss you, and she bites your lip as she hooks her thumbs under your underwear (the _third_ pair you've soaked through tonight, if you're keeping count) and tugs them down. You have to rock onto your back to let her tug them all the way off, and the moment they're gone she goes to the buttons on your skirt, gets just enough undone that she can relieve you of that just as swiftly. "Shirt," she says," and you're entirely too aroused to actually sit up or do anything in a reasonable fashion, so you strip yourself out of it with a lot of wriggling around on your back. She's outright grinning at you when you finally get the thing clear of your horns, and you can see all her neat, white teeth, all omnivore-flat but somehow she manages to look plenty dangerous anyways. 

"Spread, please," she says, and this is one of those Moods she gets, you know-- she usually gets them during your elaborate games of can-and-can't, when one or the other of you has to completely resist pailing while the other tries her level best to make resistance impossible. The Moods make her very showy, ostentatiously short-spoken, and you find it exactly as endearing as when she can't shut up for five minutes. (That is: very. Extremely. Unhealthily endearing.) As it is, spreading yourself out for her draws your bulge out immediately, and it's still hypersensitive and the feeling of cold air on it is almost too much. She lets out a little puff of breath, and you feel it low on your belly, and your bulge wriggles shamelessly. 

"Good," she says, and draws one soft hand down, straight down your chest to wrap against your bulge. You throw your head back and arch up into her grip- she's skipped her usual showy teasing, has got you _firmly_ in hand, and you're already bracing yourself, tensing your thighs in preparation for her to-

-uh, apparently pin your squirming bulge to your belly and do absolutely nothing else. Damn. "Damn," you say, when she continues to do nothing but hold it still and stare intently at you. You lift your head to get a better look at her, try and see what it is she's thinking. She's... seriously just staring at your nook, keeping your bulge pressed down like something annoying she needs to get out of her way. Why is that arousing. Why are your thighs shaking under the weight of her gaze. Why does Rose do anything ever. 

"Rose," you say, finally, because there is only so long you can tolerate being Sexily But Silently Stared At before you need actual contact. She responds by putting two fingers straight in your nook. 

You squeal and fall back again, thighs dropping wider to your sides, so far the muscles stretch a little. Your nook grasps hungrily around her fingers, and they're highblood-cold and small and soft and hooked cruelly. You didn't know you were that wet already, except apparently you are. That wet already. "Yes?" she says, and does that sort of thrusting/pulling motion that you like so much. You see why she wanted your bulge entirely out of the way, now, it's thrashing and dripping and almost too distracting, with the stimulation in the shallow forefront of your nook. It would absolutely be trying to squirm straight into your own nook if she didn't have such an admirably firm grip on it, honestly- her fingers are entirely not enough. 

"More, please," you say quickly, because it is very hard to talk, but also you know you will get very rewarded for Good Manners at this juncture. She does indeed reward you, with two more fingers, which brings the penetration straight from a frustrating tease to a luxurious stretch quite nicely. "Thank you," you have the presence of mind to gasp. 

"You're very welcome," she says generously, and pumps her hand in you so her thumb presses up against the base of your bulge. It twists and leaks under her other hand, and you groan. "I presume that to mean that this will suffice, for now?" she adds, when you manage to get your spine and legs working enough to buck your hips up to meet her thrusts. 

"Nothing," you hear yourself saying, "Is ever enough." 

And so, right as she's slipping her thumb into you, tightly tucked against her fingers, right as the stretch of her hand entering you puts you _right_ on the _fucking_ edge, Dave comes in. And doesn't leave this time. 

You make a sound like you're dying when she pulls out of you and wipes her hand indelicately on the sheets next to your hip. You further make a sound like you're going to take a few more corpses with you this time, but then you snatch the sheets off the platform around you and knot them around you while she forages some ugly sweatpants and a stretched-out teeshirt from the pile. Dave Strider does glance back at you, and you try to convey with eye contact alone that you are going to turn his skin into a very fashionable evening gown, but he doesn't seem to pick up the hint. 

You don't actually get dressed for another good hour, choosing instead to huff around the block dressed in a bedsheet, but you get some clothes back on when Rose trolls to tell you about Dave's quest. You take this to mean Bluh Bluh You Are Never Going To Pail Ever, and go to blow off some steam on corset drafting. 

You get an unnerving set of messages while drafting out the dimensions. (You're making it to Rose's measurements, though she has not indicated that she actually wants a corset. It's just- you have this incredible silk and you can't think of anything else to use it for. And you have the bones and everything. It'd be a shame to let the rest of these monster corpses to go to waste, and all.)

First, from Gamzee, who almost never messages anyone, much to the continuous concern of Literally No One But Karkat: "hOnk," followed by, "that fresh meat SMELLS MIGHTY GOOD." You ignore both of these, because not ignoring them would involve going and stealing Dave's clownmurder afternoon activities, which seems mean-spirited even if he does keep ruining every quadrant you own. 

Second, from Terezi, who messages everyone way too much (also to the GR34T CONST3RN4T1ON of Karkat, which seems to be her main motivation): "SOM3TH1NG SM3LLS D3L1C1OUS. 4R3 YOU COOKING W1LD3B34ST 4ND NOOKJU1C3?" followed by "OH ITS D4V3" and then ">;]" and then "OR 1S TH4T YOU" and then "HOW 1S 3V3RYON3 G3TT1NG MOR3 BULG3 TH4N M3" and then "OH H3S ON 4 MO1R41L QU3ST, 3V3RYON3 UPD4T3 TH3 SH1PP1NG CH4RTS" and then "H3S L3VEL1NG UP" and then "WHY DO W3 K33P L3TT1NG K4RKL3S 3XPL41N QU4DR4NTS, H3 1S CL34RLY T3RR1BL3 4T 1T." And then she goes silent for a while, which either means Dave is cheating on Rose with Terezi, or it means Terezi has gone off to catch up on the pailing race. Ew. 

Third, you get several from Rose, whose message alert on your palmhusk is several bars of a human male asking who released the barkbeasts, followed by barkbeast sounds. Dave won't show you how to change it back. Rose writes: "Where are you, my love?" and then "I think he's finished with Terezi, and Gamzee's not on his list, so that leaves you, then the Final Boss," and then "I'm sorry, this is really ridiculous, isn't it?" and then "My hand smells like you," and then "Please sort him out quickly," and then a picture of her fingers, where you can see a bit of green on the side of her nail. 

So you are, of course, flushing brightly when Dave finally tracks you down in the observatory to try and embarrass you with pailing questions. He fails badly, but you do manage to embarrass him with pailing answers, which is nice, and he finally, _finally_ , gets the fuck out of your way. 

 

You have, for the record, not filled any pails at all this evening, despite a number of hours attempting to do so. You also have not eaten anything. 

Rose, bless her, takes it upon herself to remedy both these things. She has confirmed that Dave is definitely occupied, Karkat is definitely stable enough to be getting on with things, and Terezi has been Warned. Your husktops and devices are turned off, the door is locked, her sheets have been changed, and you're sprawled out lazily across her respiteplatform, letting her feed you bits of some grub-butter planar roll variant she likes to prepare when she's feeling aggressively lazy. The grub-replacement chunks get stuck in your fangs sometimes, so you have made it quite clear to her that she is not allowed to kiss you until you've brushed. But it's still very nice and decadent, and she giggles and hums when you nip at her fingers. 

"My dear," she says, when you finish all of the roll snack and resort to simply licking and sucking at her fingers. You ignore her, mostly. Her fingers taste lovely. 

"Dear," she tries again, when you get both hands around her wrist to hold her there. She doesn't pull away for a long moment, and when you glance up you see that her eyes are half-lidded, her mouth a little open, as she watches you. Finally, she taps your jaw and extricates herself. "Go get ready," she tells you, and oh, that, yes. She gives your thigh a little pinch as you wriggle out from under her and sneak off to her ablution block to clean up a little. You take a quick glance at your hair- good enough, going to get messed up anyways- and touch up your lipstick while you're at it. You briefly consider polishing your horns, but in the end just give them a nice quick swipe with a cloth to give them a dull sheen. 

She's once again naked when you return, and your bloodpusher and your bulge jump in concert. She flushes a lovely dark shade across her thorax when she's like this, and she looks at once so vulnerable and so powerful, totally relaxed and spread out for you. You approach with slow reverence, and stop to kneel right on the foot of her platform, between her ankles. She raises an eyebrow at you, and you flush a little, and sweep your shirt off as quickly as possible without causing horn issues. She nudges you with a toe when you go to unbutton your skirt, though. "Leave that," she says, and then, "come here." 

You take great pleasure in leaving green lipstick on Rose's body. She'll be giggly and feign annoyance later when she tries to scrub it off, because you have expensive lipstick, and it stays where you put it. You trace a constellation from her thighs to her collarbones, and by the time you make it up far enough to kiss her, she's hooked one arm around your neck and has the other one down around your hips, so she can play with your horn and hitch up your skirt at the same time. It's a skill she's taken quite a bit of time to master, and you remember fondly when she was clumsier than this, younger and stupider and still somehow perfect. 

She's a little better at taking hints, now, though. That's an improvement. It means you can sort of tap her hip and twist a little and she'll scoot back on the platform, make room for you to get up over and straddle her lap. Your bulge is making a horrible wet mess inside your skirt- it's completely unrestrained, because you have completely forgone undergarments, and the green has already soaked a curling pattern through the cloth. She pulls you down for another kiss, and laughs a little into your mouth, and presses the heel of her hand on it through your skirt. The cloth isn't rough, but your bulge is _so_ sensitive, it's been _hours_ , and the slightest pressure makes you moan and bite down on her lip. She makes a sound, just as the taste of her blood hits your tongue ( _oh_ ), and wraps one arm around you, yanks you back with her when she falls back onto the bed. 

"Turn around," she says. Only it comes out more like "fern mound," because you are still trying to suck the blood off her lips, and she's not pulling away from your mouth enough to actually talk. She has to say it again, just as muffled, but with a good pinch to your hip to get you to actually pay attention. "Turn around, I want to-" 

This actually gets you to stop. There aren't many verbs that Rose will hesitate to say aloud to you. "Want to what?" you ask, still pressed very much against her, breathing hard. 

"I'm going to lick your bulge," she says firmly, in a rush to get the whole sentence out. You pull back to look, and see she's blushing. She doesn't often do that- lick your bulge, that is. She also doesn't blush often. It's really pretty, with the blood on her mouth and clear under her skin. 

"Oh," you say, and blush brightly yourself. And then you turn around, because, yes, yes, a tongue on your bulge sounds like the only thing you need in the world right now. It's awkward at first- you're never totally comfortable straddling over Rose, no matter how many times she's asked you to, and you usually only agree because she always, always makes it worth the trouble. It does put your face pretty much directly in the faint tuft of hair above her nook, and you sort of... rest your face on it. For the moment. It just seems convenient. 

There's a moment of weird skirt entanglement, which you're entirely not at an angle to do anything about, and then there's a lot of cool air on your wet thighs and nook and bulge, and then there's a hot tongue on the tip of your bulge, and you make a truly embarrassing noise directly into Rose's nookfur. The tongue immediately _leaves_ your bulge, which is maybe the cruelest thing Rose has ever done to you, and she grips it with both hands to hold it still long enough that she can talk. 

"While you're down there-" she says, and her voice is weird and thick and a little breathless. You twist a little to try and look at her face, but your skirt's in the way. Fuck. Fine. 

You do bite her hip lightly as revenge, and it does get her to open her legs, tilt her hips up for you. You're _just_ barely tall enough to get in a good lick at her nook, if you stretch, and she sighs prettily and releases your bulge, just guides it loosely back to her mouth and does... something. Everything's so sensitive it's impossible to pick out actual individual sensations, so pretty much all you know is that she's doing Something With Her Wordflap and Something With Her Graspfronds and your nook feels cold and empty and exposed and you scoot down a little, to try and make up for it by getting your tongue more properly at Rose's. 

It's actually a grossly difficult angle to even get directly at her nook, like this- Rose is making it damn near impossible to concentrate, and your fangs are _really_ in the way, and you're sort of shuddery and weak and holding yourself up over her is making it worse. You've been on the edge so many times today, and you can't really tip over with what she's doing to your bulge- just these soft little licks, or she'll take the tip in her mouth with the barest of suction, and you feel hot and cold and desperate. After barely a minute, you get entirely fed up with the teasing. You seal your lips around her little bulge, fangs carefully curled out of the way, and _suck_. Rose jerks and opens her mouth to make a sound, and ends up swallowing maybe half your bulge, instead. You're simultaneously more turned on than you've ever been in your life, and fairly mortified- you try to tug your hips up and away from her face, but she makes a muffled sound and wraps both arms back around you to keep you there. 

Damn. Okay. You sort of make a sound, directly into her bulge, and she _returns the favor_ , and that, _that_ is the best thing you've ever felt. Her mouth is perfect and her arms are like steel around you and she seems _very determined_ to make you pail in her face, which you should definitely be embarrassed about, but definitely are not. You do have the wherewithal to get a hand pressed flat against her nook, the safest way you can without claws getting involved, and flick your tongue at her bulge in a sort of desperate attempt to see if you can get her to pail before you do. 

You're just barely on edge, tense and shaking over her, and you know if she'd just touch your nook at _all_ , just the barest brush, you'd let go, but you're holding back on purpose now, just to see if you can, just to see if this whole stupid night of build-up can get better, when you hear it. 

You pull back a little. "Rose," you say urgently. "Is that your palmhusk." 

She doesn't stop to answer you, but she does get a good grip on each of your thighs and pulls them, spreads your empty nook out. You groan. 

"You said it was off, Rose, if it is Dave, and he comes in here, I am going to-" die, you're going to die if you don't come, you can feel every single particle of air against your hungry nook, and you can taste her in your mouth, and you need it _so, so badly_. 

Rose makes a sound, tongues the tip of your bulge roughly, and sticks both thumbs in your nook. You do the only thing that makes sense at that point, which is to come so hard you forget how to talk. 

There is another noise over the buzzing palmhusk noise, which you realize after a moment is the sound of your own ragged breathing. You probably stopped breathing for a bit. You have no idea. You try, after a moment of collecting your wits about you, to pull up and see how bad the damage is, but Rose gets both hands down onto your shoulders and pushes you down again. 

"Please," she says, voice tight. She's panting, and you can feel her hot breath against your thigh. Your bulge is already retreated, but everything around your nook feels so sticky and alive that you wonder if just her breathing could make you pail twice. But, ah, you have to take care of this, first. Rose is doing her level best to shove her bulge in your mouth, which is really adorable seeing as it is very small and not very prehensile at all, but you humor her anyways. She must be as close to the edge as you've been all day, because her legs are tense and twitching around you, and she's digging her sweet little claws into your back furiously. 

"Rhythmic," she manages, "licking. Fast, I need you to go _fast_." You consider whether you should try and occupy her mouth again- the narrating is sweet, but you're still really distracted by the buzzing palmhusk ( _what does Dave even need to tell her that takes a hundred separate messages?_ ) and she should know well enough by now that you do know what you're doing down here. Kind of. Fast licking, anyway, you can do that, you press her thighs open and shove your whole face right up against her, forgo breathing entirely to focus on pushing your tongue hard and even and, yes, fast, right against the soft upper side of her bulge. Her hips jerk under you, and you have to press down hard to keep her still, keep your focus absolute, even when all her muscles sieze up and she freezes with her whole body pushed up hard under you, bulge-first. You don't stop until she starts breathing again in loud, sloppy gasps, grabs you by the hair and drags your face out of her nook weakly. You let her pull you up to twist around, let her pull you back down to lie on her face to face, half-squashing her, legs slick and tangled. 

"Woo," she says elaborately. She's green from scentnub to shoulders, and part of you wants to cringe with embarrassment, but you're honestly too exhausted for it. 

"Woo, indeed," you tell her, and press a light, sticky kiss to the side of her mouth. 

"It's yours," she adds, after a minute of lying there prettily, apparently just to catch her breath. You can feel the pulse of her bloodpusher up against you, and you keep track of the wild galloping beat slowing down and evening out. 

"What?" 

"The phone that rang, it's yours, mine really is off." You glance over her to where your palmhusk is half-buried in the damp, tangled sheets next to her. The screen shows three missed calls. 

You give yourself a moment before reaching across her to check it. Your hands are still pretty much covered in nook, but you absolutely do not care. "Oh." The missed calls are all from Karkat. You thumb down the screen, leaving a glossy smear, to see that he also sent you a message that just says, OKAY IT'S. It's surprisingly short, knowing Karkat, and also grammatically incomprehensible, so you take a second to text back just an interrogative squiggle. You jump and Rose giggles when the palmhusk immediately starts buzzing in your hand. 

"WHATEVER YOU ALL DID TO MAKE HIM TALK ABOUT HIS FEELINGS MADE HIM TALK ABOUT HIS FEELINGS," Karkat tells you when you answer. Rose is smirking at you, which probably means she can hear everything he's saying quite clearly. He does like to speak really unreasonably loud into remote vocal communication devices. (It's kind of cute.) 

"Hello to you as well," you say, because the more you let him talk the more Rose is going to be giving you That Look. 

"I MEAN I JUST WANTED TO TELL YOU THAT I OWE YOU A REALLY BIG FAVOR BECAUSE HE'S- OW, YOU FUCKING DINGUS, WATCH OUT FOR THOSE- NO SHIT SORRY NOT YOU. HE'S TRYING TO GORE ME IN HIS SLEEP BECAUSE HE WON'T SLEEP IN THE FUCKING RECUPERACOON EVEN THOUGH HE CLEARLY NEEDS THE RECUPERATION PART OF THAT. WHAT THE FUCK ARE HUMANS ABOUT, DO YOU HAVE ANY SAGE ADVICE, I WAS NOT REALLY COGNIZANT OF HOW PROFOUNDLY FUCKED UP A SPECIES I HAD CREATED." Rose's smirk goes to a slightly terrifying grin throughout the course of Karkat talking. 

"Sage advice, yes, shoosh a moment, okay? Be kind to humans because they are fragile," you tell him extremely sagely, and Rose is covering her talkflap to muffle her giggling again, "And be careful because they are extremely dangerous. And do not call me for the rest of the night, also, I will just come find you when I am ready to talk about us." 

You hang up over a bit of incomprehensible cursing, and Rose takes the phone out of your hand and shoves it under the pillow so she can get you by the face and kiss you.


End file.
